


Dust To Dust

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, F/M, POV Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 17:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: “Let me in the walls you've built around / And we can light a match and burn them down / And let me hold your hand and dance / ‘round and 'round the flames in front of us / dust to dust.”- The Civil Wars
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Dust To Dust

_ He knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it easier. His hands start shaking as soon as he sees the glow of the bonfire.  _

_ She looks up as he approaches. At this point Dean knows the shape of her, her eyes and mouth and dimples and freckles, as well as he knows the shape of Baby’s steering wheel. She still catches him off-guard. Her smile is so bright it sears into his retinas, lingering behind his eyelids and blinding him long after he looks away.  _

_ “You made it,” she says, her face shining with fierce wild joy, and she’s passing him a dripping-cold beer from the cooler next to her, and what else can Dean do? He sits on the log next to her and blinks away his tears.  _

_ He kisses her, deep and hungry, tasting beer and woodsmoke. His chest is full of shivery heat that radiates out and settles deep in his aching bones, chasing away the exhaustion and the loneliness, warming him from the inside better than the fire ever could, until he’s dizzy and feverish from the closeness of her.  _

_ “I fucking  _ ** _missed _ ** _ you,” he says.  _

\-----

They heard the noise, the familiar scrape-thump of a shovel and grave dirt, before they saw anything. By the time they rounded the corner of the neighboring mausoleum, she was crouching over the hole with a Zippo in one hand and a twist of newspaper in the other; Dean heard the click, watched the flare and the falling sparks, heard the whoosh of lighter fluid going up. 

Her eyes were shadowed, but the blazing bones illuminated the wicked curl of her smile, and Dean’s stomach swooped dangerously. He was too busy staring to notice that she was drawing a gun. 

“It’s rude to sneak up on a girl,” she laughed, and cocked the safety. “Come out and say hello.” 

“It’s okay, we’re hunters,” Sam said, walking forward with his hands up. Dean set his own gun down carefully and stepped into the light. 

——-

Dean felt off-balance, somehow. He’d felt off-balance since the first flash of her smile in the firelight. He’d been turning on the charm all night, and she was laughing, but he kept feeling like she was laughing in  _ spite _ of his jokes, not  _ because _ of them. Usually he’d cut his losses, move on to an easier target, but… he couldn’t fucking  _ look _ away from her, let alone  _ walk _ away. 

“So, tell me,” she said, eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass. “Do you ever get sick of lying through your teeth?” 

Dean hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Part of the job, sweetheart, been doing it as long as I can remember,” he replied smoothly. 

“Yeah, I know, but…” she said, and she was laughing at him, low and sly, like she knew something he didn’t. “That’s not the job I meant.” 

He took a sip of beer and tried not to let his uncertainty show on his face. 

“I don’t -“ 

“Taking care of Sam. Telling him it’s going to be okay.” 

He blinked at her, chest constricting, feeling a sudden irrational surge of anger. Her smile softened at the edges like she understood, and that only made it worse. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said coldly, and he was standing before he could think it through, ready to walk out. 

“I was a big sister,” she said. Something haunted crept into her eyes. “Loneliest job in the world, huh?” 

He exhaled quick and sharp, feeling nauseous.

“Was?” 

“I’ll tell you about her, if you tell me what’s going on with you and Sam,” she offered. She licked a drop of beer from the corner of her lips, where they were quirked up in a smile, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flushed-red shape of her mouth. 

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, okay.” 

He sat back down and leaned closer, like a moth fluttering helplessly into a flame. 

——-

_ “Oh,” she whispers. “It’s you. It’s  _ ** _really_ ** _ you. How -“  _

_ “How did you know I-“  _

_ “Ash found me, but… well, Sam’s not usually watching during this part. Kinda gave it away. Hey, Sammy.”  _

_ “Hey,” Sam says hoarsely, walking into the circle of firelight.  _

_ She’s still staring at Dean, running gentle fingers over his face like she’s trying to map the changes there: his stubble and tired eyes, new wrinkles, new scars. He strokes her soft hair, traces her jawline, finds her pulse beating steady under her ear. The longer he touches her, the harder it is to think about leaving.  _

_ “You okay?” she asks.  _

_ “Lonely,” he admits, under his breath, so Sam doesn’t hear. “Fucking… shit, it’s hard. Never really realized how lonely I was, until you came along and I wasn’t, anymore.”  _

_ She bites her lip and wipes away a tear that was starting to slide down his cheek. “ _ ** _Dean_ ** _ .”  _

_ “Don’t,” he says. He tries to shake it off, make the best of it. “Can’t stay long. Are you… is this -”  _

_ “It’s good,” she reassures him. “I hang out with Ash and Pamela, when I want a break from you. Pamela sure likes talking about you. Poor girl seemed to think you were some kind of sex god, she was real disappointed when I told her the truth.”  _

_ She winks. Dean laughs in spite of himself and presses his lips to her temple, inhaling the sweet smoky scent of her hair. When he pulls away, her eyes are glittering with unshed tears.  _

_ “You’re really happy?” he asks.  _

_ “I get to spend the rest of eternity with you,” she says. “ _ ** _Duh_ ** _ .”  _

_ He looks around, breath catching at the flood of memories. “The cabin. The first night?”  _

_ “Of course.”  _

_ “This is -“ he says, heart pounding crazily in his chest. “This is it, for you? I thought this was  _ ** _mine_ ** _ . What mine would look like, if I…”  _

_ “Ours,” she whispers. Tears are rolling freely down her cheeks now, but she’s smiling anyway, brilliant and scorching.  _

_ “Dean,” Sam says. Everything is starting to shake around them. “Dean, we gotta go.”  _

  
  


——-

Dean scanned the parking lot as soon as they pulled in, spotting Baby, safe and sound. 

“Going to check if Sam’s tucked in like a good boy?” she asked wryly, watching him from the driver’s seat. “Is it past his bedtime? C’mon, now, don’t spend your year smothering the poor kid.” 

He bristled, but she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, getting out of the car without a backwards glance. 

He expected her to stop at her door, invite him in; she was just a few rooms down, as luck would have it. Instead she walked around the side of the building, gesturing for him to follow. 

There was a tall fence around the old pool, bearing a plaque that read “pool closes at dusk.” By the time Dean rounded the corner, she was busy picking the lock, squinting in the dim red light cast by the neon “vacancy” sign. 

The gate swung open. She started stripping as she walked, shrugging off her jacket and flannel, letting them fall on the concrete. 

“Seriously?” Dean laughed. She was shimmying out of her jeans. Heat twisted deep in his gut. 

She was down to briefs and a tank top as she tested the water, arms out to balance, knees at a funny angle as she dipped her toes awkwardly, and light caught on the smooth curves of her hips, tracing her silhouette in crimson, and… 

“You coming?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the pool and grinning over her shoulder at him. 

...and Dean was so fucking  _ fucked _ . 

She slid into the water with a barely-there splash. He tripped in his haste to take off his clothes, but he got there eventually, feeling oddly self-conscious in his boxers as he lowered himself into the pool. He could feel her watching from the deep end, where she was treading water so quietly that he barely heard the ripples. Goosebumps crawled down his arms. 

He pushed off the side of the pool and swam out to her. They circled each other for a moment, not saying a word, and Dean’s heart was pounding as he looked at her. 

He was shivering. The water wasn’t that cold, even, but he was excruciatingly aware of all his bare skin, all the ways she’d stripped him naked. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “This. You.” 

“Afraid to let me in?” she said. It wasn’t really a question. 

“Too late for that,” he admitted. 

“Come here,” she said softly, and she backed into the shallow end of the pool. Dean followed until there was solid concrete under his feet. The ripples between their bodies reflected red, deep like embers. 

She kissed him, not at all gently; it felt like sparks when she bit his lower lip, like wildfire flickering to life inside his chest, blistering-hot and terrifying. 

——-

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Dean said, marveling at the way she looked as the first peachy-orange rays of sunrise filtered through the blinds and illuminated all that bare skin. She just rolled her eyes and passed him a glass of water. 

“Drink,” she ordered. 

He gave her a lazy salute. He really didn’t mind how bossy she was, especially not when she was naked.

She was still flushed pink, glistening with sweat, and her hair was a damp chlorine-scented tangle on the pillow, and Dean kept thinking she must be a fever dream. He must’ve hallucinated the entire night. 

In the quiet moments when they’d stopped to catch their breath, he whispered things against her soft skin, confessed his sins, spilled his secrets… he lit a torch and held it up to show her  _ everything _ , but it was morning, and she was still there. 

Dean ran a hand from her rosy cheek down her neck. She arched back, baring her throat for him, giving him a sideways glance and a smoldering grin. 

“This is fuckin’  _ crazy _ ,” Dean growled, and he tugged her on top of him, running his fingernails up her back just to feel her squirm. 

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “Yeah, I feel a little fuckin’ crazy right now.” 

He traced her jawline, found her pulse beating steady under her ear, and when he bit the curve of her neck, sucking a red mark into the skin, he felt her pulse quicken under his fingertips. He let his head fall back on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep unsteady breath. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” he admitted. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, scared shitless.

She met his gaze, eyes heavy-lidded, lips swollen and bitten-red, and she just smiled so bright, so fucking  _ incandescent _ , that he felt the heat of it down to his toes. 

“Where are you guys headed next?” she asked. She kissed his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and Dean had trouble remembering for a moment.

“Gonna go see Ozzy. But… after?” 

“My uncle’s got a cabin in Wyoming. I crash there sometimes, between hunts. You could…” 

Dean tugged her down for a kiss, rough and desperate. She made this needy, urgent noise in the back of her throat when he pulled her hair, and then she was grinding down, her body fitting so perfectly against his, and he forgot what he was going to say. 

He dug his fingers into her hips and rolled them both over. She let out a startled laugh, catching him off-guard, shocking him into stillness. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and tried to remember how to breathe. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Dean repeated, blinded by the way a fiery ray of orange light illuminated her smile. “I’ve only got a  _ year _ .” 

Suddenly it didn’t feel like much time at all. 

“Guess we better not waste it, then,” she whispered. 

——-

_ “Did you find-“  _

_ “Yeah, she’s here. Ash checked on her, I didn’t want her to know… about everything. It’s enough to know that she’s happy.”  _

_ “Good,” he says fiercely. That’s a relief, at least, and the tight cold grip around his chest loosens ever so slightly.  _

_ His heart thumps and flutters. He’s panicking. There’s so much he wants to say and there isn’t enough time. They  _ ** _never_ ** _ had enough time. Heaven is thundering and shuddering around them, but all Dean can see is her smile, glowing hot in the orange light of the bonfire.  _

_ “Okay,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady as she wipes her eyes. “You’ve got a world to save.”  _

_ He wraps his arms around her one last time. He feels her shoulders hitch as she sobs, her breath tickling his neck.  _

_ “Thank you,” he whispers, so that only she can hear it. “I just - fuckin’  _ ** _thank you_ ** _ . That wasn’t what I meant, you know, when I asked you to look out for Sammy.”  _

_ “You got your dumb ass dragged to hell,” she says, with a shaky laugh. “Somebody had to take care of him.”  _

_ He’d give  _ ** _anything_ ** _ for another year.  _

_ “Dean,” Sam pleads, voice breaking.  _

_ “I love you,” he says desperately. “I don’t want to leave you.”  _

_ She grins, cocky and perfect even through the tears. “I know.”  _

_ He forces himself to his feet, takes one stumbling step and then another, turning his back on the warmth and the firelight, blinking away the swirling afterimages of her too-bright smile.  _

_ The scene dissolves. When he looks back, there’s nothing left except a curling wisp of ash and dust, blowing away in the cold breeze.  _


End file.
